The 'Simple' Life of a Teenager
by Imyoshi
Summary: When they're not crime fighting and saving the world and junk, they're doing the small things that make all teenagers life 'Simple'. Just some one-shots, dabbles, and small stuff here and there. All ranging from 500 words to 1500 words -Never plan to end this so it's excused from the Promise I made. Decided to use this to also brush up on a new writing style well. Guessing Game!
1. Oh, Fudge

**Disclaimer**: Apparently I own nothing of Kim Possible, believe me I checked already. Oh well it's not like it's a crime to write a story about them. Is It? Doesn't matter here I go.

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**~ Oh Fudge ~**

You try to avoid causing a mess, but your fingers perfectly skilled in fighting are no match for the challenge you try now. A slip here, a drop there, and the flop of items constantly keep you from anywhere, but clean. The machines around you that mock you prove to be no help either. And the blasted tick tick sounds everywhere in the room pound against your already forming break down.

Maybe something's are impossible even for a Possible; you consider but quickly shake off not wanting to give up so easily, even if this was your fifth attempt already. You get ready, hoping for the best to happen. Enthusiastic and scared you finally push the contents of your creation into the dreaded machine hoping for the best. And now you wait.

Tick, tick, tick, tick– you fight the urge to pull your own auburn filth covered hair. You were losing that fight quickly.

'Ring!'

The ticking sounds finally stops to only ring louder in your head. Ok the moment of truth for you've waited was here. You smiled hoping for the best, or at least a passable creation.

Carefully you open the machine you already considered a worst foe than any villain you've faced so far. And as on cue smoke quickly escapes its threshold dousing your unguarded face in a puff of smoke. Without even needing to look you already know what happened to all your hard work and your smile falters.

Apparently the 6th time isn't your charm either as you pull out the contents again seeing the horrible mess you created again. The dark chocolate colors were burned down to a crisp and somehow one turned an un-charming red. You sighed disappointed again already placing the batch into the nearby garbage can ready to redo the stress amount of work all over again.

Grabbing another bunch of contents you drop the materials on the counter ready to mix them when someone grabs your shoulder. You turn to see your best friend smiling at you with his creation nicely stacked together on his table, perfect and flawless as always.

"Need some help KP," he asked nicely already answering the question for you before you could even answer.

Grabbing a nearby bowl he begins mixing the ingredients together in a smooth motion you didn't think possible. His arms moved in a rhythmic motion that put yours to shame. Still he never basked or gloated about it to your face, which made being jealous sorta of hard for you.

Smiling while covered head to toe in filth you sighed happily but exhausted, "Yea Ron I definitely could use some help," you move beside him watching him work, "thanks," you added sheepishly.

Slowly he moves closer showing you what to do next time, his smile never faltering, "No problem KP I remember the first time I tried to make brownies…"

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**Author Notes**: Since I just started my next year if college my updates might take a bit longer than usual, but it also means I can get hit with the most random of inspiration, which is why I created this little one-shot stories story. You know just for fun.


	2. Time's Up

**Disclaimer**: Apparently I own nothing of Kim Possible, believe me I checked already. Oh well it's not like it's a crime to write a story about them. Is It? Doesn't matter here I go.

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**~ Time's Up ~**

Sweat dripped down your neck against your constant struggles to remain calm. Your hand shook uncontrollably destroying your already shot focus. Nothing you thought could make the situation any better as the problem set in front of you refused to solve itself.

You looked around the room noting the familiar setting. Your brown eyes use to being cornered. The current sitch wasn't too uncommon for you, but that didn't mean you were any more prepared than before.

Ruffling up your already unkempt golden hair you stressed. Why, oh why were you not prepared for this sitch, and more importantly why didn't you pay more attention to when you got debriefed on this particular subject. One wrong move and it would be all over- you would fail.

Time was running short for you as your fingers still refused to move. If something wasn't done quickly you could kiss your future life goodbye, tick, tick, tick- Not good. Time was ticking away, closer reaching the magic number. Pressure, lots of pressure felt like a boulder against your currently shoulders.

Sitting there trying to focus you hoped for the best when you moved your fingers deciding to just 'Wing It'. Not your smartest move, but it wasn't like you had many options to begin with, if only you paid more attention to when you were being taught this then maybe, just maybe your it wouldn't all blow up in your face.

The tool in your hand, you've used many times before, mastered the skills that came with it, but now you find it simply impossible to figure- Foreign to you like the challenge set before you. And worse of all, your best friend, she wasn't around to save you this time, you were all on your own- majorly not good.

You sigh wishing for the best. You plead, basically begging for the right choice. Hoping that the choice you made didn't explode. All or nothing now…

"Times up," yelled your teacher Mr. Barkin from across the room, who already was walking over to collect your– "Pencils down! Pass up your quizzes up now!" He ordered to everyone in the class, but you knew he definitely implied you above all others.

What?! No it couldn't be! But it was. The clock hit twelve; by the very definition the quiz was over, even before you knew it. You look down at all the work you've done–

'Blank'

Mr. Barkin walked over plucking the test away from your now shock stature. Funny thing was he didn't look to surprise at your reaction, but then again he never gets too shocked from your antics anymore- Your Never Be Normal motto rubbed off a little too well apparently.

Watching your teacher leave with your quiz didn't bold to well with you.

Smacking your face you groaned discontented, and rubbed your hand through your unkempt hair, "Aww man…"

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**Author Notes:** This writing style is rather enjoyable to write in.

**–** Can you guess the writing style?

**–** Also what did you think Ron was doing the whole time? I would like to read your thoughts.


	3. Nervous Butterflies

**Disclaimer**: Apparently I own nothing of Kim Possible, believe me I checked already. Oh well it's not like it's a crime to write a story about them. Is It? Doesn't matter here I go.

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**~ Nervous Butterflies ~**

'Huff, huff, huff,'

Your grip tightens no matter how hard you try to unfasten it. It feels like butterflies swarming through your entire body- your stomach, your heart, your eyes, the nervous feeling is everywhere. And the worst part was, you weren't expecting this feeling, this unwanted emotion that suddenly burst forward through your chest.

'Huff, huff, huff,'

Maybe this wasn't the right time, but you've waited so long. Why wasn't it as exciting as you fist pictured it, over and over again until the thought burned a permanent mark in your brain, forever engraving in 'I'll never forget this moment', part in your head. You were suppose to be ready for it, ready for anything but even with the moment presented right in front of you- you find yourself slowly losing air.

'Huff, huff, huff,'

Slowly you lean forward suddenly finding it hard to focus. All your friends had always bragged about their first times, always saying how easy and delightful the experience was. Always chatting about how smoothly everything moved like you they were walking on air. And like a gullible teen you believed every misguiding word they spurred.

'Huff, huff, huff,'

Stopping breathing so hard already, you keeping telling yourself in slow motion hoping you would actually heed your own weak words- and of course you didn't. Funny, your heart pounded dreadfully against your chest, but you fail to look nervous, instead you pretended to be calm and collective, like you always do when something you waited for finally was going to happen.

'Huff, huff, huff,'

Again you gripped tighter, almost biting your lip, as you felt the rough exterior in your hands. The time you waited for was just around the corner, just like you'll be in a few minutes…

'Huff, huff, huff,'

"Possible," your teacher Mr. Barkin called out right beside you with his trusty clipboard and pen ready to judge your every movement and mistake, especially your mistakes, "Well," he asked, "are we going to be parked here all day or do you plan to drive anytime soon?"

You felt the blood quickly rise to your face as you look outside to see your fellow classmates snickering at you, even your best friend Ron wasn't there to support you as he laughed.

"Right," groaning you fasten your seatbelt ready to take off…

'Scribble,'

What? Already!? You turn to see Mr. Barkin writing something down looking already disappointed. What could it be was it your- yup you didn't check your mirrors yet. Sighing you prepare yourself gripping the steering wheel tightly hoping for the best.

Setting the throttle to drive, you lightly tap your foot on the gas and…

'Crash'

…into your teacher's car.

Sulking, your head fell onto the steering wheel with your luscious auburn mane surrendering the same fate; the streaking honking sound lightly drowns out the sounds of laughter from your cruel classmates.

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**Author Notes: **Again it was fun to write!


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